


Once I was Seven Years Old

by Babywolfchick1142



Series: Inspired by Music [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 7 years by Lucas Graham, Child Abuse, Heavy Angst, Ian P.O.V., M/M, Not for light of heart, Sexual Abuse, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 16:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babywolfchick1142/pseuds/Babywolfchick1142
Summary: ‘Once I was seven years old, my momma told me “go make yourself some friends or you’ll be lonely.” Once I was seven years old’…..except she only said it once, the only decent advice she had ever given him.’.‘It was a big, big world, but we thought they were bigger.’This is based off of the song 7 years by Lucas Graham.  Trigger warning for the end of the story, please give it a go. Its been in my head for awhile...why is Ian the way he his? This is a possible answer to that.





	Once I was Seven Years Old

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics mixed with the story can get quite confusing, but that is very much intentional. Its necessary for the story, so please don't let that encourage you. I w3nt through and put all lyrics in italics. 
> 
> I don't own shameless, nor do I own 7 years by Lucas Graham. Please beware. *Trigger Warning towards the end. Its pretty dark. Please make sure to let me know what you think!

_‘Once I was seven years old, my momma told me “go make yourself some friends or you’ll be lonely.” Once I was seven years old_ ’…..except she only said it once, the only decent advice she had ever given him. She sat him down, spoke those words, then ran off and left them. Ian Gallagher wished he could say that it was the first time his mother had left him, but it wasn't. ‘ _Once I was seven years old_ ’.

  
_‘It was a big, big world, but we thought they were bigger_.’ We being he , Lip, and Fiona. They had to be bigger, with Monica being bipolar and Frank being a drunk, they had no choice. Fiona being the oldest bore the brunt of it all. Monica was unpredictable , and would take off at the drop of the hat. They had to take care of there baby siblings, Debbie and Carl. Because if they didn’t, no one did. That was one thing Ian learned at seven years old.

  
‘ _Pushing each other to the limits, we were learning quicker._ ’ Ian learned a lot that year, actually. He learned that he wouldn’t let the adults break his heart anymore, he couldn’t. It wasn’t the first time the read head had been hurt emotionally by them, but it would be the last. Ian built a wall around his heart. He lost all and any innocence he had left. His soul was shattered, his dreams were smashed, all in the course of one day. It was a lesson they all needed to learn really.

  
Because mommy had promised him! She promised him that this time would be different, that she would be there to pick him up from school. He had detention so he couldn’t ride the bus. Fiona had to babysit, to bring home money for food, Lip had to get Debbie from head start. After that he was taking her too the store to buy diapers. He had no one to even come walk home with him. It was cold and getting dark already, Ian was scared.

  
Who knew one tiny promise could shatter a little boys soul? But it was more than that, wasn’t It? That evening when Ian got home, almost everyone was gone. Only Frank was home, passed out on the floor, and a two(almost 3) year old Carl crying in the corner. He was begging for food and water, he wore a-day old soiled diaper. And Ian was pissed. Where was She? Monica left Carl alone? And she forgot about Ian, too? Tears streamed down the redheads face.  
He hurried into action, putting Carl in a clean diaper, giving him food, water, and comforting him. Not for the first time in Ian's short life, had he found himself hating Frank. He put all his anger and pain into that hatred. Everything was Frank’s fault, everything bad that happened to them. How could he just ignore Carl’s cries? How could anyone do that to there kid. Ian found himself yelling at Frank. Kicking him, telling him to get up! Before Ian could get it all out, Frank was up and in his face. Calling him ungrateful, telling him he should be lucky he was never aborted. Telling him how it was his fault that Monica always left. If it wasn’t for him, she would stay. She would be there.

  
Ian didn’t see the hit coming till it was too late, and then another, and another. He hated Frank even more in that moment, but he couldn’t right back. He was frozen, in a mixture of Shock and fear. It wasn’t the first time Frank had hit him, but it was definitely the hardest, the longest, and the most painful, because Ian was already so far down, it was the worst day of his life. Happy Birthday Ian. He broke away from Frank, grabbed a terrified Carl, and ran upstairs. He gave Carl a bath, and took special care to make sure his youngest brother was clean and dry, before heading to there room. That night he fell asleep, tears in his eyes, with Carl clutched protectively to his chest.  
He vowed to never let Carl go through what he went through on that day.

* * *

 

  
_‘By eleven smoking herb and drinking burning liquor_.’ Weed and alcohol was a free for all around the Gallagher house. Ian had long since smoked his first joint, and drank his first beer. One night Monica and Frank threw a block part, it was wild, but fun. Monica offered him his first hit of a bong, it was awesome. Weed really helped him forget how shitty life was, but no amount of self loathing outweighed his self discovery. As much as he hated himself, and thought himself dirty, he loved that he knew who he was. Frank gave him his first shot of liquor that day, too. He had tried beer before, but never anything stronger. The vodka felt good mixed with pot

  
Self discovery came as a shock to Ian, but knowing he was gay made him feel free. It also made him feel vile, he knew no one could ever find out about it, about the sick things he liked . He tried to shield and protect his younger siblings from the cruelties in the world. From the carelessness of there parents , tried to save them some heartbreak. It wasn’t until Ian heard Monica speak those words to Carl, that Ian realized Monica was gonna leave again, eventuallym  “Go make yourself some friends or you’ll be lonely…” in that moment Ian knew he had to prepare himself to take on Carl’s first major heart break.

  
Life already wasn’t easy, there were now five siblings and one on the way, the new baby would be here any day. Then it was only a matter of time before Monica left. ‘ _Never rich so we were out to make a steady figure_.’ Fiona took whatever job she could, Lip began to tutoring for money and writing peoples assignments. Ian helped out by finding people for Lip, and watching their younger siblings. They tried their best to make ends meet, to pay the bills. Because Frank never would, and Monica was never around ling enough so she could. It was all on Ian, Lip, And mostly Fiona. If Ian ever for grateful to the elders in his life, Fiona got all the credit.  
‘ _Once I was eleven years old, my daddy told me, “ Go get yourself a wife or you’ll be lonely.” Once I was eleven years old.’_ It was a night Frank and Monica were good, and they were good. For what felt like the first time ever, Frank smiled at him.

  
He leaned forward and spoke “Son, you better fine yourself a wife like your mother here one day, or else you will be lonely. Monnie never leaves me lonely..”  
Even though Frank was drunk off his ass, he still managed to talk out of it. It didn’t stop Ian from wondering just what Frank would think if he found out Ian would rather he lonely than have a wife. He d rather die than have one like his mother. Would Frank had Ian even more than he already did if he knew? If he knew the red head was not only gay, but disgusting and used up…how would any of them react if they knew. God.  
_‘I always had that dream, just like my daddy before me_.’ Ian wished he could follow in Someone else’s footsteps, wish he had a daddy he could be proud of. But did Frank ever even have a dream? ‘ _So I started writing songs, started writing stories_.’ Ian wished he was talented, he wished he could write songs. Create a better life. He could write stories, and make a better future for his siblings. ‘ _Something about that glory just always seemed to bore me_.’ But that wasn’t him, was it. That life style would just be boring to a South sider. There wasn’t enough life, there wasn't enough adventure.  
_‘Only those I really love, will ever really know me_.’ So why would he want to be something he’s not? Ian took a hit of a joint. He wished he had a future, he wished he could be more than his parents….who would want to be them?  
At eleven years old, Ian learned he had to protect his siblings at all costs.

* * *

 

  
_‘Once I was twenty years old, my story got told, before the morning sun, when life was lonely_.’ His story being his bi-polar disease, because that’s all he was anymore wasn’t It? He was lonely because he lost the love of his life. The self proclaimed Mickey fucking Milkovitch, was in prison, and it was Ian's fault. Too top it all off, Ian lied to Mickey face and told him he would wait for him. He didn’t, and he wouldn’t. He already tried moving on. He already broke the empty promise he made that day. He never would deserve Mickey, the dark haired man would be better off without Ian.  
Or Maybe his story only equaled everything bad that happened. Maybe it was all the times Frank got drunk and hit him, maybe it was when Monica let him. Maybe it was when one of both of them left, or they went on benders. It was all of it. His relationship with Cash that began when he was just 14 and ended when Linda found out, and he moved on to Mickey. His story was his relationship with Ned or Lloyd Lishman. His story was every old man he fucked just because they bought him things, or gave him money. His story was what made him who he was.  
‘ _Once I was twenty years old,_  
_‘I only see my goals, I don’t believe in failure_.’ Ian’s life was starting to look up a little. ‘ _Cause I know the smallest voices, they make it major.'_ Ian took the test, he was going to become a EMT. He was going to make something of himself, something more than the bipolar disease. _‘I got my boys with me, at least those in favor.’_ He had his brothers by his side, he had his sisters.  
‘ _And if we don’t meet before I leave, I hope I’ll see you later_. ‘ The only thing that was missing was Mickey. Ian wanted to make himself into someone The other man wouldn't be embarrassed to say he once knew. ‘ _Once I was twenty years old, my story got told, I was writing about everything I saw before me_.’ Ian wrote in a journal about his life, about his mistakes. Every bad thing he went through, every bad thing his friends and family had seen. Everything.

* * *

 

  
_‘Soon We'll be thirty years old, our songs will be sold.’_ It will all be just a old story by then, Mickey will be out and moved on to someone better, someone he deserved. ‘ _We’ve traveled around the world and we're still roaming.’_ Or maybe things will go well, maybe he got to see the world. Maybe he’d get to leave Chicago. Maybe he could forget about his childhood, forget about the bad. Maybe Mickey broke out along the way, and they had gotten back together, and moved to Mexico. It was all a big maybe. Maybe he shouldn’t be so ‘ _Soon we'll be thirty years old.’_

  
_‘I’m still learning about life’_ , about everything that happened, and will happen. ‘ _My women brought children for me, so I can sing them all my songs, so I can write them stories_.’ Or in Ian’s case, Maybe he would meet him a man, maybe they would adopt kids. Maybe it would be Mickey and Yevgeny. Maybe he could give those children a better life. Maybe he could protect them from some of the pain, some of the bad things. Maybe they would be spared

  
_‘Most of my boys are with me_.’ Lip and Carl would stay by his side, Fiona, Debbie, and Liam, too. He'd always have them, family was everything, at least he hoped. ‘ _Some are still out seeking glory._ ’ That would be Mandy, sweet Mandy. She tried everything to escape the Southside. Found herself a nice job at a escort service, hopefully she would do better. Find a life worth of her. Because she was worth so much more. ‘ _Some I had to leave behind, my brother Im still sorry_.' That was Mickey, the love of his life, he had to better Mickey life. The only way Ian could, was by leaving him behind.

  
Or Maybe he and Mickey will reunite, maybe they will just be again. No matter how much Ian didn’t deserve the raven, he could still hope. Hope that he will survive the ups and downs of his disease. Fiona and Lip will help him through it…but looking Mickey, would almost be too much, especially if he knew it was forever.

  
Or Maybe he will sink, and he will be all alone, and none of that will happen.

* * *

 

  
_‘Soon I’ll be sixty years old, my daddy got sixty-one, remember life, then you life becomes a better one_ ’. Frank’s newest liver wouldn’t live any longer that that. Ian would try to remember the good, so he could live better than he had. ‘ _I made a man so happy when I wrote a letter once’_. Ian wrote a letter to Mickey, to tell him how much he would always love him, and how that’s the reason he had to let the raven go. All Ian had and ever would be was damaged goods, Mickey needed to know that, so he wrote that letter. It made Mickey so happy.

  
_‘I hope my children come and visit once or twice a month_.’ Ian hoped that he does have kids, he hopes that if he does, he’s a worth parent. Worthy of a visit here and there. Maybe he could be, but he probably won’t. ‘ _Soon I’ll be sixty years old._ ’ And what a life he probably would lead , Ian could only hope he becomes more that the failure he already is. Hope he finds love again, finds happiness. Maybe he would make a future for himself, find a career. In a perfect world, it would be him and Mickey, side by side. They would both be old, but they’d have kids, and grandkids. Every shitty thing behind them.

  
‘ _Soon I’ll be sixty years old, will I think the world is cold? Or will I have a lot of children who can warm me?_ ’ That was just it, wasn’t It? His life could go either way from here. It could start to look up, things could go right for once, he and Mickey could just be. Or it could continue on its lonely spiral dow, he could, and probably would, amount to nothing. Everything he ever thought and knew about himself finally coming true. He was a born failure. The abomination. The gay son. He was nothing but a used up, disgusting sack of nothing. So why did he even bother with hopes, with dreams? Why did he bother with maybe, when it would never Be? All he ever would be, is Just another Monica…

  
_‘Soon I’ll be sixty years old…’_

* * *

 

  
_‘Once I was seven years old, My momma told me, go make yourself some friends, or you’ll be lonely_. ‘ That day when Ian was seven years old, Monica gave him the first(and only) advice she ever had. He took it to heart, because despite how flaky his mom could be, she was his mom. He was a seven year old boy, who wanted nothing more than to believe in his parents. Sure they broke his heart before, he knew never to get his hopes up. Frank was a drunk, Monica was bi-polar, they were both addicts.

  
That day he tried to make friends with a few boys in his class a school, he wanted to fit in. He never wanted to be lonely. But Ian always looked so good, with his red hair, and his freckles. It made the other kids laugh. The teased him about it. Every single one of them. The other kids then brought up his family,. How screwed up they were, how Frank was a drunk. Ian was so pissed off, and hurt. All he ever wanted was to make friends. Then they called his mom crazy, and that was all it took.

  
Ian got into a huge fight, he punched them. He kicked them, he bit them, he wanted them to suffer. The sad thing? Not a single one of those kids got in trouble, but for Ian it was shit street. A week in detention. Ian was pissed and hurt, and hated the fact that he was dumb enough to ever listen to Monica. He sat all alone in detention with Mr. Peterson, it was cold and snowing outside. By the time detention was over he just wanted to go home.

  
Ian sat outside and waited In the snow, the only kid left at school. He waited, and waited, but no one came. He used the office phone, but no one answered. There was no bus, and the snow was too thick to walk. Ian was so angry, his mommy promised to she would be there. She promised she would puck him up. But that was Monica wasn’t it? Always full of empty promises. It hurt.

  
_‘Once I was seven years old_.’

  
That’s when self discovery came along, as well as the event that shaped Ian’s life as he knew it. Ian didn’t have a coat, they couldn’t afford them that year. So he sat out in the cold, with little more than a thin jacket. He prepared himself to weather the snow storm, and walk home. He started the walk, shivering uncontrollably. It was so fucking cold. That’s when Mr. Peterson pulled up next to him. Mr. Peterson was about 50 years old. He was a very kind, albeit strict, teacher. He always took a special interest in Ian. The older man helped him out, always telling him he was so much more than how he lived. Ian absolutely loved Mr. Peterson.

  
So when the teacher offered him a ride l, the red head didn’t think twice. Maybe he should have, or maybe not. Maybe he should have been smarter, Ian knew better. He wasn’t that stupid, but when the teacher told Ian he could go home with him if he wanted, he readily accepted. The teacher made him a luxury meal, and for once, Ian was happy. The teacher took special care to make sure he was warm, even stopped by a store to buy Ian a coat! Ian tried to tell him that he would be fine with what he had, but the older man just ignored him and bought it anyway. Ian never felt so loved.

  
And in that moment Ian knew. Living in the Southside Ian had to grow up quick, he was no meagre seven year old. So when the teacher bought him a coat, took him home, and made him a meal? Ian knew, he knew from the moment he got in the car. Yet he didn’t care, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Before Ian could do or say anything, he was being led to the older mans bed, being forced to strip. Mr. Peterson threw him down, and climbed on top of him…and oh god! It hurt, it hurt so bad! It burned, the red head felt like he was being tore in two. He cried, he screamed, the man just kept thrusting. Tears were in his eyes, his mind beginning to go blank, when he felt it. He felt it through the immense pain, a wave of pleasure. Again, and again, and he liked it. Despite the fact that he didn’t want it, it hurt, and he just wanted it to end. A part of him wanted more.

  
By the time the man finished Ian could hardly move, his tiny seven year old body had endured too much trauma. A sticky warmth was on his belly, he give himself to look down. The red head realized with horror that it was cum , he wasn’t naiive. He may be young, but he knew about those things. What horrified him the most, however, was that it was his own cum. Ian liked it. He actually liked what the man had done to him. The older man was whispering words of love in his ears. Before he knew it, he was dressed, and being drive home Everything was numb.

  
Everything in Ians life was shaped that day. The fact that he liked it was disgusting, he was disgusting. He was a dirty white, because that first time, wasn’t the only time. Ian went back to the teachers house once a week for the next 3 years. He was 10 when the teacher broke it off, saying he was too old. Ian was sad, he liked the attention he got from Mr. Peterson. He knew it was wrong, knew the man was a pedophile. He wasn’t dumb. But he liked it, and he wanted more. Mr. Peterson was noce, he bought Ian nice things, and always treated him like he was some thing precious.

  
It was that day, when he was seven years old, that Ian knew without any doubts that he was gay. It was that say when Ian was seven years old that made his relationship with Kash, with Ned, and with everyone when he worked at the club, okay. Because to Ian it was okay, he was fine. They didn’t hurt him, they didn’t mess with his mind. All they did was fuck him, and he liked it. He was okay.

  
_‘Once I was seven years old.’_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please take the time to leave me a comment and a kudos. Is love to know what you all think of this. Please???


End file.
